E is for Estranged
by Cackling Grackle
Summary: Nine patients of Project NIPSA have woken up. They don't know who they are or what they are, but they have a feeling that this strange Doctor may hold the answers. The problem is, though, that they can't tell if the Doctor is lying or if the truth is really so much stranger than fiction. All they do know is that they need to get back. Human names used, foul language G8 plus 1
1. Chapter 1

At seven o'clock, Monday morning, eight alarm clocks went off and seven hands turned it off and stretched. One hand hit the snooze button and slipped back under the pillow. At seven fifteen seven people stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel and one person hit the snooze button again. At seven thirty seven people sat down to breakfast and one person turned off the alarm and sat up in bed. At eight o'clock seven people put on their jackets and went out the door and one person pulled on clothes with a sandwich hanging out of his mouth. At eight thirty eight people drove down the highway to the same destination and at nine they all arrived and parked in an empty parking lot.

All eight people got out of their cars and looked around at one another. Germany looked neat and tidy as usual, Italy rushed over to him, his clothing wrinkled from lying on the floor all night and the two of them along with Japan walked to the large brick building. France and America took joy in tormenting Great Britain and with Canada trailing behind them they entered the building as well.

Russia looked around to see if China had decided to join them for once. Disappointed at the lack of his presence the big man turned and went through the doors alone to join the other members of the G8 in their meeting.

The eight men sat around a circular table in a large room with large windows and large doors. Despite their smallness compared to the room it was undeniable that each of them held a sort of importance about them that filled the room to the high ceiling. But that came with being a nation and none of them noticed it much anymore.

There was a long list of issues to discuss that day, but it was doubtful that all of them would be discussed and even less likely that anything useful would be done about them. Now, England was standing at the chalkboard writing down some of the things they needed to go over. It was the usual: Global warming, poverty, the Middle East, that sort of thing. Germany was doing a head-count to make sure that everyone was there seeing as they had had trouble with that sort of thing before.

Canada sat quietly watching America, his "brother", make a paper airplane out of his notebook paper as Japan tried to explain to him the importance of focus. France was chatting up Italy, who was completely oblivious to the man's intentions, much to the annoyance of the German sitting next to him. Russia smiled at nothing and held his gloved hands on top of the table casually.

It seemed perfectly normal until the ground beneath their chair suddenly began to shake violently. England fell over immediately because he had been off-balance from reaching up to the top of the board anyways, but the others clutched their chairs and looked around with wide eyes. Several of them began to shout nonsense at one another. A roar filled their heads and each one felt a tremendous pressure on his chest. The world blinked out for a second and then just as quickly as it had changed everything was suddenly back to normal, as though the earthquake had never happened.

"Sh*t," America breathed. "What the hell was that?"

"You tell us," said England from his spot on the floor. He sat up rubbing his head and looked over at the younger nation. "It's your country."

"Be damned if I know," he muttered.

"Is everyone okay?"

There was a murmur from around the room and the others nodded. "Ugh," said Japan. "I think I blacked out for a moment."

"No way, you too?" asked America.

"So did I, ve~" Italy said rubbing his eye with the heal of his hand. "It was weird."

"But everyone is okay now?" asked Germany. He looked around and frowned. "I don't think it was too bad, we were just caught off-guard." He went over to one of the expansive windows and looked out at the city. Anything that massive was bound to have caused some commotion. The others joined him all except for Russia who stayed where he was at the table.

"That's odd," said France. "No one else seems to have felt it."

The cars were still zooming along the road as though nothing had happened and there didn't seem to be any damage to anything aside from their shot nerves.

America shrugged. "It was probably just an isolated thing or something."

"Well, at least nothing ridiculous happened. After the last time there was an earthquake while we were at your house things became very strange," England reminisced. The others shivered at the mere mention of it.

"I never want to have to go through that again," muttered France.

"Hey, that was a one time thing, alright?" America argued.

"Right," said Germany, shaking it off. There were more important things to take care of. He turned around and walked over to the blackboard. He turned to face the others. "Everybody please calm down and take your seats, there is business to attend to."

There didn't seem to be any problems anywhere from the short earthquake so the others sat down again and began the meeting. It didn't take long before England and France were in a full-out fistfight. America, being who he was, egged them on as Germany attempted to gain control of the meeting again.

Japan watched placidly, but Canada paid them no mind. Instead he was watching Russia with some interest. The Russian was still sitting there with his hands on the table, but his smile was gone. He looked empty and he just kept staring straight ahead, through the wall at something Canada couldn't see.

After a while of watching the quiet Canadian stood up and walked around the table to stand next to the most frightening man in the room. He tapped him on the shoulder timidly and said his name, but Russia didn't respond.

"Hey guys?" he said to the others. They didn't seem to hear so he said it again louder. They all looked at him (except for England and France who were still fighting) and Canada nodded at Russia. "What's wrong with him?"

Japan went over and knelt down next to the Russian. He studied him for a moment and then called Germany over. The two of them tried talking to him, but they got no response. America wandered over and leaned over to stare at Russia dead on.

He waved his hand in front of the man's eyes. "Hello-o," he said. "Earth to Commie, do you read me?"

Russia's hand shot out and grabbed America's wrist, twisting it painfully away from his face. With his other hand he pointed at the wall across from him. They all looked, but there was nothing there. "What is it?" America asked through gritted teeth. "Sh*t, man, you don't know your own strength." Russia let go and America pulled his hand away, rubbing his wrist angrily. "Okay, what are we looking at?"

"I don't know," said Japan.

"A black hole," came Russia's quiet voice, full of wonder. "A black hole in the wall."

"I don't see anything," America spat unhelpfully.

"I don't either," Germany agreed. "Russia, what are you talking about? What black hole."

"Wait, I see it too." They all looked at Canada who was staring at the wall as well. "I didn't see it before, but it just sort of… appeared."

"What does it look like?"

"Like he said. Just a big, black hole in the wall."

"Where does it go?"

"Nowhere," he said. His voice was quiet and had that sound of wonder to it as well. "It's just a hole with nothing inside it."

"Bro, you're starting to freak me out," America said with an uncertain laugh. "There's no hole there. It's a perfectly solid wall." To prove it he walked over and knocked on it three times. "See? Solid."

"No," Canada whispered. "There's a hole there. Right… there." He pointed straight ahead and America looked again, seeing only the wall again.

He was about to tell the northern nation to knock it off, that it wasn't funny anymore when there was an indignant cry from the other side of the room. They all turned to see what had happened and found France looking around in an angry confused kind of way. Italy was cowering in his chair where he had been watching France fight England only moments ago.

"Where are you?" France called out. "I bet this is one of your little magic tricks, oui?" He spun around, but England was nowhere to be found. "Hon hon hon, I will find you and when I do…"

Italy burst into tears. Immediately Germany was at his side and asking what was wrong. But the Italian didn't answer. Instead he continued to cry with so much fear in his eyes that none of them knew what to do. Germany himself was panicking.

"Dude, calm down," said America. "You seriously need to chill."

"_Dummkopf!_" he shouted. "Look at him!"

"Why? It's not like holy cr*p."

Italy was disappearing. His skin was becoming transparent and now they could see the chair through him. The nation himself was still crying, but they couldn't hear it anymore and it seemed like he couldn't hear them either. He curled up and hid his face into his vanishing hands. Germany's hand, which was on the Italian's back suddenly had nothing to hold on to. It slipped right through and the German tried to get a hold of Italy again, but he wasn't there anymore. They couldn't touch him and they could barely see him. And then he was gone entirely.

Germany shouted indignantly and stood back. The others stared at the chair where the Italian had just been. What had just happened? Where did he go?

America turned to look at Canada. Canada was no longer standing over by Russia but was over by the wall where the "black hole" was and was reaching out to touch it. His hand came into contact with the wall and then went through it. As soon as his fingertips disappeared he froze. His image flickered and then he was gone as well.

"Canada!"

His voice sounded oddly distant and with heaving breaths he looked down at his hands. They were almost clear and when he held them up the light shone through the flesh like it was paper.

Japan ran over to Germany and tried to tell him something, but no words came out of his mouth and he was fading just like the others. The German frowned and looked around. France was gone as well and America was nowhere to be seen. Russia was still sitting in his chair the look of amazement frozen on his face.

A numbness came over his foot and began to spread up his leg. His other limbs grew numb too and along with the numbness came the invisibility and it consumed him quietly until he was gone.

And then there was Russia. All alone in the room.

He blinked and looked around, just noticing that he was alone again. He stood up and wandered over to where the other nations had been. There he stopped and stood. His vision flickered and Russia swayed slightly. And then like a light the world blinked out around him.


	2. Chapter 2

When Germany woke up he had no idea what was going on. As far as he could tell he was in some sort of glass chamber or capsule. His arms and legs were not restrained oddly enough so the first thing he did was to reach up and pull out the tube that was down his throat. He coughed and gagged as it came up and when it was finally out his mouth was dry and his throat ached. There were other things hooked up to his arms and head, but he left them alone for now, just in case they were doing something important.

For the mean time he tried to figure out what was going on. He was definitely in some sort of chamber, it had a glass door and the sides and back were solid metal, but he had no idea how he had gotten there. With a quick test he found that the door was locked or something and there was no handle on his side in any case.

From what Germany remembered he had just been at a meeting of the G8. The meeting had gone as usual. Except there had been an earthquake and something had happened. He couldn't quite remember and thinking about it made his head hurt. What had happened?

Well, first things first Germany needed to find a way to get out. So he quickly pulled off the wires and the tube that was taped into the vein in his wrist. They fell and hit the sides of the capsule he was in and hung there limply. There was a problem; there was so little space in whatever he was in that the German could barely move his arms, only able to lift them to his face if he pressed them up against his chest painfully. But he managed to get them up and pressed against the glass door.

With a deep breath he leaned and pushed on it with all of his strength and weight behind him. When nothing happened he leaned back against the chamber and took a few good breaths. And then he threw himself at it again and pushed so hard that his arms began to shake. He could feel his face turning red with exhursion and there was a moment where he thought his brain was going to burst. But the door did not budge. How was this possible? Every nation, while not being as strong as America, was far stronger than any living thing on earth. The lock should have broken by then.

An idea popped into Germany's head and he reached down for his gun. But instead of his holster and belt and clothes his hand only grabbed paper. A paper hospital gown, that's what it was. What the hell was going on?

There was only one other option then. Without strength and a gun on his side the only thing he could do was try and break the glass. So he balled up his fist at his side, pulled it back as far as his prison would let him and let fly. The glass didn't break but his hand did.

With a howl of pain and frustration he began to flail at the glass as hard as he could, punching and kicking and kneeing and even hitting it with his head. But even as the nation he was Germany quickly grew tired and he was forced to stop. He leaned his head back and gasped and panted. He held his injured fist close and felt the broken knuckles bleed.

That was it then. He was stuck, going to die in this tiny capsule and never find out what happened to him. Or the others. He wondered if they were the same as him. Were they trapped as well, with tubes stuck in them and no way to get out or find out what was going on? And Italy. Poor innocent Italy. He must be terrified. He always had been terrible at dealing with bad situations.

But Germany would never find out. Never see him or any of the others again.

And then something happened. Someone walked by. The person was a man in a white uniform with a gun in a holster at his side. As Germany watched the man passed by slowly, dragging his feet like he really didn't want to be there. Before the man could disappear Germany slammed his hands against the glass as hard as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his shattered bones. The man jumped at looked at him with shocked eyes as though he had had no idea the German was there.

"Help!" Germany shouted. His throat hurt from the tube and his voice scratched unpleasantly, but it didn't matter. "Help!" he shouted again.

The uniformed man pulled out a walkie-talkie and said something into it. The glass must have been soundproof because whatever he had said Germany couldn't hear. The person on the other end must have not believed the man because now the officer was gesturing frantically at Germany and looked incredibly panicked.

"Let me out!" Germany shouted. The man didn't move. "Verdammt." This guy wasn't going to cooperate. In a last ditch attempt he began to throw himself against the glass as hard as he could. The man flinched and backed away a bit. He didn't seem to realize that he had a gun, which told Germany that the guy was either new or not used to having to do anything. Either way was good for him when he got out.

And then something else happened. Something entirely unexpected. As the man was standing there in the middle of the walkway something flew out of nowhere and hit him hard in the waist. It wrapped around him and he fell over, hitting his head hard on the concrete floor. The thing stood up. England?

The Brit looked over as though he had heard Germany thinking his name and jogged quickly to the door. England was also wearing a white hospital gown and there was a cut in his wrist where a tube would go into his vein along with several other, older marks. In one hand he held a set of keys and he looked through them before finding one that fit the door that held the German.

The door fell open and to his surprise Germany fell too. He hit the floor with a smack and felt the pain shoot through his hand again. He gritted his teeth against a scream and fell to his forearms instead. Yes, it was definitely broken. A pair of hands grabbed him under the arms and pulled him to his feet. He swayed and nearly fell over again, but England kept a firm grip on him.

"Hello, Germany," he said. His voice was rough like he hadn't used it for a long time and wasn't sure how to anymore.

"Danke," Germany said back.

"Thank God I found you," England continued. "I've been looking around for quite some time and a lot of these things are empty. It's good to see a familiar face."

"Ja, but… Where are we?"

"I'm not entirely sure." He paused to look around. "But wherever this is I don't like it. I say we find the others and get out."

"So the others _are _here then?"

"Yes. Well, I think so. I haven't been conscious much longer than you have. And I certainly haven't had time to look at each and every chamber."

"How many are there?"

England looked at him. "You haven't seen yet have you? No, I suppose you haven't, you've only just gotten out."

"Haven't seen what?"

"This." England gestured and Germany turned to look. His eyes opened wide in amazement.

The entire wall was covered in the glass chambers. Most of them held sleeping people covered with tubes and wires and connected to massive machines that hummed quietly behind them. The wall stretched far in both directions, so far that Germany had to squint to see either end. The chambers sat directly beside each other without a single inch of space between them and each chamber was only a couple of feet wide, only just large enough for the person inside.

"How many?" he asked.

"Hundreds, maybe thousands. Not all of them have people in them, but they used to."

"How can you tell?"

"There," he said, pointing to a sheet that hung from Germany's own chamber. "It gives information on whoever's inside. I think they're all nations, but I don't recognize a lot of them."

But Germany wasn't listening anymore. Instead he was walking over to his chamber and he lifted the sheet of paper to read. It was a list. It gave his height, weight, description and the name of his country. It even gave his human name. How did they know all this?

But despite the alarming amount of information they had about him just sitting there, there was quite a bit that just wasn't right. Like his birthday for example. Germany's "birthday" was on October 3rd, but this sheet said it was August 22nd. That was just plain wrong.

The thing that made him think though was that it gave a last name as well as first. Germany hadn't had a last name since World War II, maybe earlier. In fact he couldn't even remember what it had been. And yet there it was and to top it all off it sounded Jewish. He couldn't remember if his last name had been Jewish or not, he didn't think so, but something about it sounded familiar.

"Germany."

"Ja?" he asked with a start. He turned to look at England.

The Brit was looking at the guard who was beginning to stir. "I think we should do something about him. When I found you he was on his walkie-talkie and I think it was about you so we need to get him out of the way."

"Right." Germany walked over and knelt down next to the man. He took the walkie-talkie and tossed it at England who fumbled it, but recovered. "Listen to that in case they send someone for us." England nodded. Germany turned back and with his good hand threw a punch that landed squarely on the man's jaw. There was a small crack and the man stopped moving. He lifted the man up and dragged him over to the open chamber. With a heave Germany pushed him inside and got him standing against the back and then he closed the door.

"Is that entirely necessary?"

"Can't be too careful." He straightened up and went over to where the gun was sitting on the floor. He picked it up and heaved it onto his shoulder. "Let's go."

As they walked down the hallway England looked at each of the faces they passed by. He noticed that many of the chambers near the one Germany had been in were empty and across the information sheet was a big red stamp that said DECEASED. It made him uneasy to look at. Then they came to a stop in front of a face they both recognized.

"Prussia?" England said quietly. "What are you doing here?"

In his sleeping state he looked rather peaceful aside from the tubes and wires. His hair looked freshly cut and his skin seemed to glow. More than usual anyways. As they watched his mouth began to twitch as though he were dreaming and his eyes moved under the lids switching from side to side and up and down.

Germany walked over to the information sheet and looked over the words. He frowned. How could they know all this? It was ridiculous and frightening at the same time. None of this could be real.

Below the regular information there was a note written in blue pen. It said:

_Patient appears to have normal health signs. Despite the earlier seizures he seems to be coping well with the new equipment. This could be the first truly successful project and bodes well towards other deaths. A breakthrough is imminent and we are optimistic. The procedure was a complete success and the new medication works. Further problems may arise, but are fully treatable with the new research. Progress is- _there was a long line that was scribbled out. _Life signs are promising and should hold strong as long as proper precautions are taken and the patient has recovered from earlier complications._

What did that mean? What procedure? What seizures? What was going on? It was all too confusing and Germany wasn't sure he could take it all in. It seemed so incredibly surreal.

He held his hand out to England. "Give me the keys."

"W-what? Germany, do you know what could happen if we wake him up? Do you see all those things he's hooked up to? What if it hurts him? Worse, what if it alerts someone that we're here and not on the other side of that glass?"

The German turned to look at him with piercing blue eyes. "Give me the keys."

"Germany-"

There was a sudden noise that drew their attention back to Prussia. His hand had come up to hit the glass and his eyes were wide open. He was awake. There was a moment where Germany and England both just stood there staring at him, stunned into a momentary paralysis. He brought up his other hand and looked between them. And then he began to hit and kicked the glass wildly, thrashing and flailing so much that they thought he might hurt himself.

England threw the keys at Germany. "Open it!" he shouted. "Let him out!"

Germany took the keys and tried each of them on the door. On the sixth one there was a click and Germany was able to pull open the door. Prussia didn't fall out like he had, but rather he started clawing at his throat and at the tube taped into his mouth. His younger brother reached forward and carefully, but quickly, pulled it out. Prussia fell forward onto his hands and knees and vomited onto the concrete floor. He gasped and coughed and shook his head. Saliva and bile dripped from his mouth and he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

"Sh*t," he gasped. "What the hell?"

With shaking hands he reached up to pull off the wires and tubes. As he did that he looked around, up and down the hallway. "Where are we?" he rasped between breaths.

"We don't know," admitted England. "We were only just wondering that ourselves."

Germany put his arm around Prussia's back and under his arms, pulling him to his feet. He was heavy and weak, but Prussia was determined that with a little help he could walk just fine. So they began down the long hallway again. England ended up having to put his arm around Prussia as well so he and Germany supported the dazed nation between them.

"What do you think those things are for," asked Prussia.

"I'm not sure," muttered England. "But it seems like every nation on earth is in one."

"Wait," Prussia said, digging his heels into the ground. "Wait, wait. Let me see that one."

He pointed over at one of the empty chambers and with a quick glance between them Germany and England led him over. He hobbled closer and knelt down to look closely at the information sheet. Germany knelt down beside him and read it as well. He didn't recognize any of the names or dates, but the description and the nation were all too familiar.

Germania. He had been there in that chamber. But now he wasn't and over the information sheet there was in big, red ink the word DECEASED. He was dead. Prussia was supposed to be dead, that's what the note at the bottom of his sheet had said, but here he was. What made the difference, Germany wondered?

A sound distracted him and the three of them all turned to look down the hall. There was no sign of a guard so where had the sound come from they didn't know. There it was again. It sounded like someone knocking on glass. One knock at a time, very slowly and very far apart.

England jogged down toward it and stopped in front of one of the chambers. His eyes widened and he immediately beckoned Germany over. The German tuned to look at his brother. Prussia looked back at him and then nodded as if to say, "Go, I'm fine here."

Germany walked briskly as he could on stiff legs to where England was unlocking the chamber. He stopped and felt relieved. It was Italy. His face was stained with tears and he was curled into a ball at the bottom of the chamber, but he was fine.

The small man looked up at them shakily, his breathing rattling with fear and sobs. And then he launched himself out of the pod and straight at the German, throwing his arms around the man and sobbing into his shoulder. Germany put his arms around Italy and turned to England.

"Go check on Prussia," he told him softly.

England nodded and went back down the hall to where the albino was still crouched on the ground. Germany looked down at Italy and rubbed his back in what he hoped was a soothing way, he really wasn't very good with that sort of thing, but it seemed to work and the Italian began to calm down.

Italy eventually pulled away and wiped his eyes weakly. He sniffed and looked around cautiously. "What happened?" he asked. "Where are we?"

"We're still trying to figure that out."

"But what happened? All I remember was an earthquake and then everything went quiet." He sniffed again. "I couldn't hear anything."

Germany remembered that terrified expression, the way he wouldn't respond. Was that why then? Right now Italy was looking at the chambers with wide, wet eyes. Germany looked over at the chamber he was looking at and saw Romano, eyes closed and a tube taped into his mouth.

"Germany?" Italy said quietly. "What's happening? Why is Romano here?"

"I don't know, Italy."

"We have to let him out," Italy said, determination mingling with the wavering in his voice. He looked up at Germany pleadingly. "Germany? Please let him out."

The look on his smell friend's face broke Germany's heart, but he shook his head firmly. "We can't," he said, softly as he could, "we don't know what would happen if we woke someone up."

"Are there more of us?" Italy asked, "Who else is here?"

"I have no idea," he admitted. "It seems like all of the nations are here. But I don't understand how-"

Before he could finish that thought Italy suddenly bolted, running away, down the hall and away from the other three nations. "Italy!" Germany shouted. He ran after him, but he always forgot that when Italy wanted to run there was no stopping him. Nothing could keep up with him. Besides, his legs felt like he hadn't run in ages, which was odd because he made a point of running every morning. After only a few strides Germany stopped and bent over, panting and waiting for the ache in his calves to fade. He watched Italy go and sighed. There was worry lurking beneath his surface, but the German made himself go back to England and his brother instead.

"He'll be back," he assured himself. Italy would never leave him for long at a time like that. Right?

Italy ran. His legs were sore and his breathing was rasping painfully, but he kept on going. He wasn't as fast as usual, but he kept going. And as he went he looked for someone in particular.

The sight of Romano behind that glass, frowning even in sleep, was terrible and no matter where he looked that was all he could see. But he needed to keep a clear view. If he missed it then he might just keep on running forever.

The earthquake had been strange. Not strange in the way the others had thought. The thing that made it strange was that someone was missing. In his whole long life every time Italy had been close to a danger that his dear Germany couldn't keep away there had been someone else to save them. Every time, but this one.

Grandpa Rome had never missed an appearance, so where had he been this time? Was it possible that he was there? In one of those chambers? Was that what had kept him away?

His eyes searched each face frantically. Some were familiar like Austria or Switzerland and at one point he even saw Seborga, but Grandpa Rome wasn't there. Quickly Italy grew tired and he had to stop before his lungs burst. When he turned to look the others were only a little ways off, he hadn't gone far, but it was far enough to not worry about them going after him.

Germany looked over at him, but he went back to talking to his brother and Italy felt a bit happier that Germany would let him do this.

So he walked along the row of glass capsules and felt a feeling of horror grow inside himself. Every nation was here and then some. What was this place and how had they taken all of them? It seemed impossible that the nation representations could be stolen without any trouble from the armed forces or politicians. But here was the proof that it could be done. And why were there so many that were empty? The sheets on them said DECEASED, but did that mean there had been someone there before?

He went over to examine on and found that it was made out for Corsica, the next one said Gran Columbia and so on and so on. Some of them he knew well from history books, stories or had even met once upon a time, but some of them were completely unrecognizable like Sikkim and Urjanchai Republic. All of them were "deceased".

Soon enough he tripped upon a name he knew well. Roman Empire and stamped across it was a big, red, blocky DECEASED.

Italy let out a whimper and stepped back. He didn't want to read anymore. He forced himself to look away from the red lettering and down the hall to where the others had been. They weren't there anymore. Either they had left or he had wandered farther than he'd thought. The hall was so long that Italy couldn't imagine it having an end. Was there another one? Maybe it was above his head or below his feet. Either way it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Who could do this to them? To anyone?

He looked down the other way, expecting to see an endless hall just like on his other side. But instead he came face to face with a man in a white uniform who was slowly pulling out his gun.

Now every person is equipped with a fight or flight response. Depending on the person one will be dominant and this will determine what said person will do in a situation when confronted with danger. Had Italy been a fighter he may have stayed and stood his ground. Maybe thrown a punch or two. But his heart was pounding with fear instead or anger and without a second's thought for what he was doing Italy did what he did best.

Italy ran away.

"Is that everybody?" asked America. He looked around at the eight of them. They were a sorry looking bunch with less muscle then he remembered them having and they all looked very tired. But there they stood in their paper gowns without the slightest idea what had happened.

After Italy had taken off England, Germany and Prussia had gone in the other direction to find the others. Quickly they rounded them up starting with America and Canada who were in chambers next to each other and wearing pale green gowns rather than white ones. Next had been France (much to England's distress) then Japan and finally Russia (much to America's distress). With a quick to the end of the row they had discovered that they were the only ones awake.

"I guess so," replied England. "But we still need to find Italy before we get out of here. Any ideas?"

"Nein," Germany sighed. "There's no way we can find him in this place. He's got too big of a head start on us and who knows what's on the other side of any of those doors."

He shrugged to get a better hold on Prussia's arm, which was wrapped around his shoulder for support. The ex-nation was no longer dazed and confused, but his legs were still weak. Those extra machines he had been hooked up to must have been doing something to him.

Prussia himself grinned. "C'mon West, use that Ita-radar of yours. You can find him whenever he needs his shoelace tied in Egypt, can't you find him in this hallway?" Germany elbowed his brother in the ribs and Prussia burst into a fit of coughs. "Hey, watch it," he hacked. "Sh*t, that hurts."

"If we keep walking that way we should be able to find him eventually," Canada said quietly.

"Hey," America burst in. "Here's an idea. Why don't we just keep walking that way, we'll have to bump into him eventually!"

"But that would take forever," France complained. "And I feel so tired."

"Suck it up, frog, it's the only way we're ever going to find him."

"But it's such a long way."

"Hey guys?"

"We're not leaving without him," Germany stated firmly. "We can't just leave him behind."

"Fine, you go search for your boyfriend and Francey-pants and I will stay here," said America with a smile.

"I hardly think so."

"Hey. Guys."

Canada opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by Japan. "We all must go or risk loosing each other. The only one who should be allowed exception is Prussia-san."

"I'll wait with Prussia."

"Oh hell no, keep that Russian b*st*rd away from me. Besides I think-"

"No one is waiting," said Germany. "We're all going together. There's no way we can miss him and we are _not _losing anyone else."

"I agree entirely," England added, arms still folded tight across his chest. "But just in case, we should at least-"

"F*ck it. Guys!" Prussia shouted through scorching lungs.

"What?" asked Germany.

Prussia tried to tell them, but the shout made him cough, so instead he simply pointed down the hall. They all turned to look and were surprised to see Italy charging straight at them. They smiled, but the smiles quickly faded when they saw the uniformed man running after him with a gun in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other, shouting frantically into the latter.

"Italy!" Germany shouted. If only he still had his gun.

"Germany, help!" Italy shouted back.

Germany turned to England angrily. "Why didn't you tell us they'd found him?"

The Brit took a step back and said, "I don't have the walkie-talkie anymore. I dropped it when you dropped your gun."

The German swore and turned his attention back to Italy, who was near enough that they could see the whites of his eyes.

As he drew nearer the others began to back up. Their slow steps grew faster and as Italy came even with them they all turned and sprinted as fast as they could down the hall. Their bare feet slapped the concrete and the air stung, but if they stopped the guard would catch up and then they would be in real trouble.

Prussia was barely able to keep up and as he stumbled along he turned to look back down the hall. Another man in white had joined the first one and he held an even bigger gun in his hands. He raised the gun to his shoulder. The albino turned back and stumble-ran ever faster even though it made his chest hurt horribly.

A bang made them flinch and Italy cried out with fear. There was a curse from behind them and they looked back to see another man had joined the two of them. Where the hell were they coming from?

There was another bang. This time it hit its mark. Russia felt a sharp sting in his shoulder and immediately his legs fell out from under him. His head smacked the floor and he blacked out. The others kept going.

The hallway seemed never-ending, but as they ran they came to a door in the concrete wall across from an empty chamber. Germany tugged it open and they all charged through. He closed it behind them and looked around for something to block it with. He grabbed a nearby chair that was sitting up against the wall as though it were offering its help. He wedged it under the doorknob and followed after the others.

The place they were in now was another hallway, but this one was painted pale yellow and lined with office doors. Each door had a small frosted window and beyond them they would catch glimpses of people and natural light, but they were never brave enough to try going through one. The floor was linoleum and the hall was constantly splitting into a maze of smaller halls and larger ones. At one split they turned left and saw a door at the end with sunlight pouring through a window.

They ran for it. An office door opened and a man in a lab coat stepped out. When he saw them he looked surprised and only managed to say "Hey!" before they shoved past him and out the door.

They came out into a parking lot and the door swung closed behind them. The blazing midday sun blinded them and they all brought up their arms to fend it off. The air felt too cold and the sun felt too hot and they were all too aware of the nakedness of their paper gowns and the deadly pain in their legs. The air was too fresh and it made them choke and the ground was too hard and it hurt their feet. What the hell was happening?

One of them was screaming, but none of them knew for sure who it was and they were all in too much pain to move. They were stuck. If they went back inside the men in white would get them, but if they stayed out here they thought for sure they would burn up in the sunlight. Prussia was almost certain he was going to throw up again.

Before they could reach a decision or even take the chance to open their eyes the door behind them banged open again. Half a dozen men in white uniforms came out and surrounded them, pointing their guns at them. Daring them to try to escape. But how could they when every move sent searing pain through their entire body?

They could hear more guards jogging over to them from across the parking lot, shouting commands and questions at each other loudly. Japan brought his arm down and opened his eyes a crack. Everything was blurry and painful, but he wanted to see what was going on. The men had quieted and one of them was standing a bit further away and speaking calmly into his walkie-talkie. Japan could hear a static-filled reply, but the words were too strangled to make out.

The man nodded, said one last thing and then he put the device back in his pocket. He brought his gun up and walked over to stand next to one of his comrades. They stood silently, guns pointed ominously at the eight nations. The nations themselves were slowly coming out from behind their arms to blink in the sight through the burning tears of the sun. Germany was so preoccupied that Japan noticed he wasn't blushing about Italy having his face buried in the other's arm.

They stayed like that for quite some time, but the guards never faltered and the nations didn't dare move. Only when the door behind them opened again did the eight of them turned around. The men in white all shifted, cocking their guns in case they tried to attack this new-comer, who none of them could see properly due to the tears of pain in their eyes.

Germany, however, who made a point of never crying even when in serious eye-pain, could see the new man clearly. He was tall, but not very well built, with short brown hair that was graying at the temples and a small pair of rectangular glasses that sat at the end of his long pointed nose. He was wearing dark pants, expensive looking shoes and a gray blazer that was buttoned up over a neat little blue tie. All in all, not very intimidating. Germany was sure he could take this man down easily if not for his injured hand and the fact that there were about twenty guns pointed at his head to make sure he didn't do just that.

The man smiled at them in a very nervous way. "Hello," he said. His voice was reedy, but oddly firm. "I hope you're enjoying your first day out?" He waited, but no one said anything. "Right!" he said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "Let's get started shall we?"

_A/N_

_This is where the real fun begins. I actually forgot to add an author's note on the first chapter, which more introduces the circumstances than any actual plot, but it is important. In any case I'm not going to ramble here as I have a tendency to do, instead I'll just say: Welcome to the story, I hope you enjoy your stay, and please leave a review on your way out. I would also like to say that I don't own Hetalia or any and all products/companies that appear in the course of this story such as Dorito's and Scotiabank. I'm sorry if I spell Dorito's wrong, I don't actually have a bag here with me and I'm not going to look it up._

_One final thing. There are a few OC's in this story, but don't be scared, no plot is oriented around them, they are only necessary for certain purposes. The guy in the blazer who just showed up is a good example of a necessary OC and you'll find out why in the next chapter._

_~CG_


	3. Chapter 3

"Let's get started shall we?" said the man. "Why don't we step into my office?"

Without another word he turned around and went back through the door, kicking a sliver of wood underneath to keep it open. At first none of them followed, but when a man poked the end of his gun rather harshly into America's back he changed his mind. They followed the odd man through the hallways. As they went they could see various men and women opening doors and peering out at them cautiously. America made a face at a very serious man earning himself a startled look from the man and a smack in the head from England.

Eventually the man stopped at a door and went inside the room, beckoning for the others to follow. The frosted glass window in the door said "Doug Hamlet" with a series of degrees underneath that just looked like a lot of letters to the rest of them. When they got inside they found the man, Doug Hamlet apparently, sitting behind a cluttered desk. There were two chairs sitting facing the desk that reminded Canada vaguely of a principle's office and a small couch against the wall to their left.

Germany helped Prussia down onto the couch reluctantly. He wasn't sure about this man or this place, but his hand hurt like a b*tch and Prussia was looking much paler than usual.

Hamlet shoved some of the papers on his desk off to the side revealing another layer beneath them. He looked up when the guards walked in and shouted, "No no no no no no! I don't need all of you, these men are harmless. You three," he pointed to a few of them, "wait outside. The rest of you, back to your business. I don't pay you to stand around looking tough do I?" He sighed and sat back as the last of them left and smiled out at the nations. "So. I suppose you all have a few questions to ask me?"

"Where the hell are we and what the hell are we doing here?" asked Germany through clenched teeth. It was taking all of his focus not to start shouting at the man in frantic German. They needed information and they needed it quickly and unfortunately the only way to do that was through civility.

"Incredible," the man muttered. He pulled a notebook out from under a neatly messy pile of papers, flipped it open to an empty page and began to write something down. "You've managed to become bilingual."

"Just answer the bloody question," hissed England, arms crossed.

"Of course," said Hamlet, putting down his pen and looking up at them again. "Welcome to the Institute for Scientific Anomaly and Experimental Research, or the Institute. Quicker that way. I'm Doctor Hamlet, Head Doctor actually. The nine of you, along with hundreds of other participants, were selected according to location, health, genealogy and needs and wants as patients for an experiment that was supposed to last for around fifteen years." The doctor rolled his chair back to a metal filing cabinet and opened on of the drawers. He searched through the files inside, pulling out a few every now and again until he had about nine of them. He then closed the cabinet and rolled back over to his desk. "It is called the National Identity Prolonged Simulation Animation, or Project NIPSA."

He fanned out the files on a clear spot on his desk. Each was marked with a huge red stamp that said CLASSIFIED and had a small picture on it. They all gathered closer to look at them and were surprised to see their own faces looking back at them in the pictures.

"Hey," called Prussia. "What is it? What are those?"

His response was a file tossed onto the couch next to him. He picked it up and looked at the picture. It was him, a little younger, but the same red eyes and snow-white hair. It was a regular mug shot , full on from the front and no smile at all. "What the hell?"

"Those are your files," Hamlet continued. "They contain all of the information on you we could gather. Hair colour, eye colour, age, name, birthday, address and so on. They haven't been modified in a while actually so the age may be a bit off, but only by a few years."

"A few years?" asked France. "How long have we been here?"

"Just over four years. About one month over. Its summer now by the way, July 16. Congratulations Alfred."

Germany dropped his file in front of the doctor. He had been the only one brave enough to actually open it. "How do you know all this?" he asked pointing a finger at the folder. "How can you know my name?"

"Well, regular research. Letters, conversations, phone books–"

He was interrupted when the German grabbed him by the throat and pulled him out of the chair. He shoved him against the wall with a bang, still clutching the man's throat, and shouted at him, "How do you know who we are?"

No one stopped him. They all watched as Doctor Hamlet squirmed. They were just as curious as Germany was as to how the doctor could know their names. They had forgotten about the names on the sheets outside of their chambers, but when Germany read it again on a second sheet of paper he remembered and now he wanted to know.

Truthfully, he wasn't angry. In fact he might have been scared. The biggest secret a nation kept was one that only the closest of nations knew about each other. It wasn't that they were a nation or who had nukes stashed away just in case, it was their name. Every nation had one, but none of them used it or even thought about it. They all addressed each other by their title rather than name and again only the closest knew it. Germany didn't even know what Prussia's name was or the other way around, so how could this random stranger know the name of every nation in existence?"

"As I said, we've been doing our research and you were the best candidates…"

"How did you get all these nations?" Germany tightened his grip and Hamlet took in a raspy gasp.

There was a bang as the door flung open. The three guards stepped in, but Hamlet just raised a hand to tell them to stay put. Then he looked back at Germany, frowning and studying him carefully below his glasses. In a hoarse voice he asked, "Do you know who you are?"

"I am _D__eutschland!_ How did you find out about the nations?"

Hamlet's eyes widened and his eyebrows went up in a look of discovery. He looked over Germany's shoulder at the guards and beckoned them over. The three of them grabbed the German, two of them holding his arms back and the third pulling out his gun and pointing it directly at the man's temple. Germany quieted.

Hamlet stepped forward, leaning heavily on the back of his chair and massaging his neck slowly, thoughtfully. "You say you are Germany?"

"J-ja."

"Well, Germany. It seems you have hurt your hand. Dawson?" he said to a guard. "Go get a medi-pac, we need to try and wrap his hand up."

The guard with the gun nodded. He put his gun back in its holster and headed out the door. Germany relaxed a little.

"Now then, I think there is something I need to explain to all of you." The doctor sat down in his chair again looking a little more wary this time. "The NIPSA Project is something unlike anything any of you have ever dreamed of. While it is true that most of you were not participants by choice you all had some need or want that linked you to this experiment. Some of you had things you needed to get away from and some of you," he glanced at Prussia, "had something you needed to get away for. Now, the National Identity Prolonged Simulation Animation is exactly what it says. It was a method of putting the patients in a prolonged animated state in which they would be given a new identity under simulated circumstance.

"Each person is connected to machines that regulate their health and status as well as a… Well, it's beyond description. And incredibly complicated. Let me explain it to you in terms you will understand. It is comparable to an MMORPG."

"What is an MMORPG?" asked Japan quizzically.

America turned to him wide-eyed. "Dude," he said. "It's a massive multiplayer online role-playing game. How the hell can you not know what that is?"

"Actually, I didn't know what it was either," put in France.

Hamlet cleared his throat to get their attention. "I would like to continue. The Project is like one of these games in the sense that each patient is no longer themselves. They are given a specific role, put in a specific place in a specific time and can interact with the other players. This game, however, is only open to the select few and these select few are not just given a new role, they are given a whole new life. While in the game they will have no idea that who they are is not actually who they are. They will believe themselves to be the character they are given. There is no way out of the game unless someone who is not playing wakes them up, so to speak."

"So, while they are in the other world they are not conscious in this one?" England asked.

"Correct."

"And how long would this game last?"

"Each session would vary according to person and perspective. To those not playing the game will only last for several years, in this case four, although the target was fifteen. To those inside the game it could last anywhere from ten years to ten thousand, depending on their character."

"Are you expecting us to believe that we were in those tubes for four years?" asked Germany. "And that we had no idea."

"That's right. Four years although to you it would have been a thousand or so. How old are you? Never mind, never mind. But yes you had no idea."

"Then what characters were we given?"

"Well, that's the thing I'm having trouble with," Hamlet said hesitantly. "You see, the whole procedure was only supposed to use up a small portion of your memory, maybe only the time you spent here, or small details like birthdays and where you left your car and such. But what seems to have happened is much more drastic than any of us could have been prepared for."

Another pair of guards appeared at the door, supporting a limp figure between them. The first two guards moved out of the way and the newly arrived guards carried the man over to the couch where they set him down next to a very uncertain Prussia. It was Russia they had been carrying of course, and he was knocked out cold.

"What did you do to him?" America asked with a sort of joyous wonder.

"The procedure seems to have taken up your entire memories," Hamlet continued, ignoring America entirely. "You have no memory of who you are or what happened. All you know is your character." He pulled a penlight out of his pocket and wandered over to Russia as he spoke. "As I said the N and I in NIPSA stand for National Identity." He pulled up the lids of Russia's eyes and shone the light into them. "These words don't refer to the patients however, they refer to the role each person was given. Each patient was a perfectly normal person until they entered this lab. Once they were hooked up to the game however, they became more unique than you could possibly imagine." He clicked off the penlight and put it back in his pocket. "He'll be fine in a few hours."

He sniffed and went back over to his chair. The other guard had reappeared and was wasting no time in getting Germany's hand wrapped up. Hamlet watched the man work. When he was done the guard closed the metal case, stood up and left without a word. "By the way, that looks broken," Hamlet put in. "You may want to get to a hospital and get it set properly."

Germany held his hand tenderly. It hurt more now that it had been wrapped up so tightly and the pain was pulsing along with his heartbeat. "Go on," he said deeply.

"Hm? What?"

"As you were saying…"

"I'm sorry, what was I saying?"

"About the patients being unique once they entered the program," Germany seethed.

"Oh! Oh, yes, right. Well, as I was saying every person who entered the program was given an entirely unique persona. As the name of the experiment suggests the characters were all based on specific nations."

"Wait," England interrupted. "Are you saying that we're not really nations? That it was just a part of the experiment?"

"Well… yes. We wanted to see if given the proper information and a bodily form the program would be able to predict future events in terms of economy and international relations. We were getting close too. We have been monitoring your progress for the past four years and you got so close. The program is currently only a year or two away from catching up to real time and once it did we would have gotten enough information to satisfy the government grant financing this operation. But something must have happened. You were not supposed to wake up until the experiment was over."

"But if we aren't nations," Italy piped up for the first time. "Then… what are we?"

"Well, you're people. Human beings," Hamlet explained carefully. Italy looked on the verge of tears and was gripping Germany's good hand like a security blanket.

"Don't listen to him," the German growled. "This is insane. This man is crazy. We need to get out of here and back to our own countries."

"No, please!" The doctor stood up, waving his hands frantically. "You can't leave the facility! The program can't continue without the nine of you! You are key components, if you leave now the whole system could crash and all of our work will be for nothing." He laughed slightly. "The Institute will be bankrupt and hundreds of people will be out of the job. Besides, your families all think you're dead! If anyone find out what actually happened to all of you… I don't know what will happen!"

"You expect us to believe you. You expect us to believe that you brainwashed us into believing that we are nations and none of what we remember, none of what we've gone through, actually happened? We are not human! We are nothing like them!" Germany looked around frantically at the others. They muttered words of agreement, but all of them looked a little uncertain. He couldn't understand what was so complicated. How could they believe what this madman was saying? America was hanging off of his every word!

"Now… Germany, please calm down. We can sort this all out. You just need to be rational about this."

England, arms crossed, wandered over to the doctor. "Perhaps," he said. "You could give us a moment for this all to sink in. This is a lot to put on us and none of us are really feeling ourselves just yet. Do you think you could give us a moment alone?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes of course." Doctor Hamlet nodded. He glanced quickly at each of them before moving around his desk and striding out the door.

They watched him go, all except for Prussia who was eyeing Russia nervously. The Russian still hadn't woken up yet, but he was beginning to stir.

Once the door had closed England immediately began to speak. "What do you think? Is he telling the truth or not?"

"I don't know," Germany said, staring at the floor. "He seemed sincere, but you can never be certain. People would love to get their hands on a nation."

"I for one think he was lying," France voiced. "There is no way I could be so common and I find ugly people have a tendency to lie."

America shrugged. "He seems pretty cool. I think he might have been telling the truth. And why do you keep crossing your arms, you look like a crazy person, dude. Starting to weird me out."

England looked down at his crossed arms and back up. "Habit I suppose. Anyways, what do you think we should do? They have some pretty disturbing information on us and this place seems pretty high security. I think there might be some truth to what he's saying."

A few of the others nodded in agreement. Prussia, however, did not. He had pushed himself against the arm of the couch to get as far away from his Russian companion as possible and as he spoke he watched the other nervously. "I don't know guys," he said. "If that were true then why the hell would I still be in the program? My empire collapsed. I don't represent anything. I think he's just some psycho trying to get his hands on us. And even if it was true, wouldn't someone have come looking for us if we just disappeared off the street?"

"Well he did say that our families think we're dead. Why look for a dead person?" Japan muttered.

"Closure? I dunno. There's just something really screwy about all this." Prussia stood up unsteadily. Canada rushed to help him. They walked and limped over to the chair behind the desk and Canada set Prussia down on it carefully. It was a swivel chair and when Prussia started talking again he also started to swivel. "I think this dude kidnapped us," he said, turning from side to side.

"Maybe we were knocked out by that earthquake during the meeting. That gives them a time to get us, but doesn't explain why they put us in those chambers." England leaned back against the desk and began to chew his thumbnail. "None of this adds up right. And what about all of those empty chambers labelled 'deceased'?"

"And why would they come for me? I wasn't even at the meeting."

"Neither were any of the others we found in there. But that reminds me." England turned to look at Prussia. "Before you woke up what happened? What were you doing?"

"Why?"

"When we all passed out we were in the middle of a meeting. But before we began there was an earthquake. No one else seemed to feel it, but it was enough to knock us off our feet. Then strange things started happening afterward, which, I suppose, would have been when we would have been unconscious from the initial blow. Did you feel anything similar?"

Prussia stopped swivelling sat forward in his seat. "Hm. Yeah. I was watching TV and eating chips on the couch and Austria was giving me hell about it. There was this quake, I guess and I sort of fell off the couch. Piano man yelled at me for getting crumbs on his carpet and went to find a vacuum. I passed out before he got back."

"Did Austria feel the earthquake?" Germany asked. Prussia shook his head. "So that must have something to do with it."

"Why don't we just ask the doc about it?" America said loudly.

At that moment the door opened and Doctor Hamlet walked back in carrying a large pile of clothing. "Sorry to interrupt," he interrupted. "But I thought you might like something to wear other than those gowns."

Japan blushed at the reminder and took the clothes he was given with a bow. The others took the clothes as well, but a little less formally. "I hope you'll find them to your liking. They were what you were wearing when you came here. Except of course for Matthew and Alfred – erm – Canada and America. Sorry. Don't worry, they've all been washed. You may find them a little large however; you've all lost quite a lot of weight during your stay here."

America didn't hesitate. He pulled on the jeans he was given and then took off the gown. Before he put the shirt on the all caught a glimpse of his torso, which was covered in scars and so thin that every rib was clearly defined. The red t-shirt covered it up quickly though. The clothes were a little big on him and looked brand new, but he didn't care. It was better than a paper dress.

The others, minus France, were a little more discrete when they changed and Japan and Canada asked if there was a bathroom they could use to change. France didn't even bother putting pants on before he tore off the gown and the rest of them averted their eyes until he finally put them on. England changed behind a potted plant and came out looking nice, if a little scrawny, in a dark green button up shirt and black pants. He asked for a belt to help hold them up.

Prussia appeared from his spot under the desk wearing a black AC-DC t-shirt and very worn jeans with holes in the knees. "How do I look?" he asked.

"Sexy," England replied dryly.

"Flatterer."

Canada and Japan returned fully dressed just as the others were beginning to talk again. "Have you decided what you are going to do?" Hamlet asked the group. He had taken control of his chair again, forcing Prussia to sit on the carpet as France had taken his spot on the couch. They were all feeling tired and Italy had actually fallen asleep in the corner, but they managed to remain standing.

"We have to leave," Germany replied, though none of them had agreed to anything. "Whichever story is true we have to get out of here. If we are human then there are people who think us dead and we need to change that. If we are nations and you lied to us then we have duties to attend to in our own countries."

Hamlet grimaced and hummed. "If you insist then I can't stop you. But I do need you to do something for me." He leaned forward on the desk and looked at them all over his glasses. "You can't tell anyone about this place, anyone at all. It is government funded, but they don't know all of what's been going on here. If anyone finds out about the people we're holding or anything at all this entire thing is taken down and all of us in charge will be sent to federal court. If any of you breathes a word… We won't be kind."

"Very well," Germany agreed. "We won't."

The others agreed and Doctor Hamlet sighed and smiled with relief. "Good. That's good. Now, we can get you a car and someone to drive you. If you'd like we can also pay for plane tickets for you to get back to your homes and even call in. We've kept track of your relatives just in case and we have their updated addresses and numbers in your files. There's also–"

"Thanks," England interrupted. "We'll be fine with just the car."

Hamlet nodded. "Right, right. But, I do insist that you take these." He pulled open a drawer of his desk and held up a pair of sunglasses. "You've been 'asleep' for quite a while and your eyes aren't used to the light anymore. I'd suggest masks too, but I have a feeling that you don't want to attract attention."

"Thanks." Germany took the glasses from the doctor. The others got theirs as well and an extra pair was taken out for Russia in case he ever woke up.

"Oh, Dr. Hamlet?" England asked suddenly.

"Call me Doug."

"Okay, Doug. I was wondering if you could tell us about the empty chambers in there? Who were they? And are they really… dead?"

The doctor's face fell momentarily and he looked down at the desk. "They were nations as well. And yes. They are dead."

All eight nations stopped where they were and looked up. Dead nations? To them it was almost unheard of. If a country fell the nation would either disappear or, in Prussia's odd case, continue to exist as some strange immortal with no ties to the land they once represented. The only nations most of them could ever recall falling were Germania and Ancient Rome, who both disappeared without leaving behind a trace. Holy Rome was known to some of them as well; especially France and Prussia who had both been present at his fall, but neither had ever found the body of the child.

"What happened?" Japan asked.

"The first person to enter the program was one of our own. He wasn't really the first to be wired in, but he was the first to volunteer. He worked for me and helped me to design the program in the first place, many years ago and was a personal friend of mine. His name was Roman, he was from Italy. We used to joke around about that all the time; little did I know he was being serious about it. A few months after we launched the program Roman came forward and said that he wanted to be a part of it in every way possible. He wanted to be a nation and he offered to do it for free. He had no ties to anyone but us; the project consumed his life so he decided, why not? So we hooked him up and he gave us the go ahead and then he was gone, into the system. And we had our Ancient Rome."

Italy looked up at this, his eyes getting wide. Germany walked over and sat down next to him and the Italian immediately latched onto his arm.

Hamlet continued. "The program ran perfectly for a good five months, but then we found a glitch. We discovered that once a nation collapses the person who represented that nation in the program would die as well."

"That's a glitch?" asked France.

"We couldn't find the reason why," Hamlet said, ignoring the other man's remark. "There didn't seem to be one. The program continued to support them properly, it didn't stop, that wasn't the problem. We started taking extra precautions, setting up breathing tubes in case the person was suffocating, but people continued to die. Prussia was our first and so far only breakthrough. We monitored his progression through history and caught him just in time. Through all of our research and… failures we set up a system of machines to keep his heart pumping and lungs going and somehow we managed to keep him alive."

"Is that why he seems so weak?" asked Canada, glancing worriedly at his friend. Prussia was staring at the doctor hard and didn't notice.

"Most likely. Those machines were the only things keeping him alive. His heart and other organs are very weak; I'm surprised he survived being separated from the life support. By all accounts his heart should have stopped immediately upon release."

"Sh*t," breathed Prussia.

"Wait a second," America said, putting his hands up. "Let's backtrack for a second here. I've seen Ancient Rome. If he died like you said then how come he keeps showing up whenever Italy needs him? Explain that."

"Really?" asked Hamlet, more curious than anything. "There must be a ghost in the system. I'll have to do more research to know anything and the bug will need fixing of course. We can't have the course of history changed due to an expired friend. His presence could contaminate the entire experiment and–"

"Would you shut up?" Prussia burst out. "Don't you get that this isn't just an experiment to us? This was our life and the only thing we knew. Heck, we don't even know if we can trust you! You can't just talk about Ancient Rome like he meant nothing to any of us! He was my personal friend for a long time and Italy was actually raised by the guy. Show a little respect."

Hamlet opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water with no sounds coming out but a few stuttered vowels. Finally he closed his mouth. After a couple of breaths through his nose he spoke. "You think I don't care about him?" he said in a measured tone. "Roman was the best man I knew. He was the only one who really believed in this experiment and the only one who kept it going when I wasn't sure if I could. You can thank that man and only that man for the time you got in history. We thought we could save the world and he quite possibly has, so don't tell me I don't respect him."

The others held their breath as a spark of hatred crossed between the two feuding men. "If you would allow me," said Japan in a hesitant voice. "Prussia-san? Hamlet-san? We should be going soon." The two looked at the small Asian nation with mixed emotions, caught between the group's need to get on with it and their personal testosterone-fuelled rivalry.

Hamlet was the first to back off, straightening himself as well as his tie. He cleared his throat and said, "Quite right, quite right. You need your things." He gestured to someone in the hallway and another guard entered carrying a small cardboard box. It was nearly empty and each of the nations leaned in as he passed by to get a glimpse of the contents.

The Doctor took it from the man and waved him away. "Now, there's not much here," he muttered into the box. "Just a couple of baubles." He reached in and pulled something out. "This is A-England's watch. Quite nice, but the battery's died." England took the watch from the extended hand and strapped it around his wrist.

The rest of the items were passed around quickly. A wallet for each of them except Russia, two pairs of glasses for Canada and America which, after a quick argument over whose where whose, it was discovered they were a bit too snug so they were pocketed, a cell phone for Prussia with no reception, and a pocket calculator for Japan.

"There was also a handgun," Hamlet said as he set down the now empty box. "But I figured I-Russia, wouldn't really be needing them in his current state." The Russian opened his eyes sleepily and looked out at them for a few seconds before closing them and going limp again.

"Jesus," muttered America. "What kind of guy was he that he had a handgun with him when he came here?"

"Two things," Germany interrupted. "One: we were never anything but what we are. Russia was never whoever that man was and he never will be. Two: I highly doubt any one of us came here voluntarily by any means and that means we did not come here, we were taken. Thirdly: we still don't know if we can trust this man, so we don't know whether these guns even exist or not."

The doctor looked mildly hurt.

"Three things," Prussia cut in from his spot by the door. "One: who taught you how to count questions? Two: who freaking knows what's going on here? I don't. I'm pretty sure you don't. The only one who seems to know anything about anything is the doctor here so I think we kind of have to trust him."

The doctor smiled.

"The only one here we should really have been able to trust was America, this is his country after all, but so far he's proved to be nothing but a useless fat-ass."

"Hey, I resent that!"

"Yeah, he's right, West," Prussia agreed. "You have no right to call him that. Look at all the weight he's lost. Now he's just a dumb-ass."

America crossed his arms and sighed with derision. He opened his mouth to retort, but Canada cut in saying, "Can we please not go through this again, we have to get out of here."

"He's right," England said with a nod. He stepped over to the doctor. "You said there was a car we could take?"

Hamlet nodded. "That's right, there's a van in the parking lot. I have the keys here." He gestured to the mess on his desk. "Erm… Somewhere."

"That will work fine," Japan said. "If you would be so kind as to retrieve them for us we will be leaving now."

Hamlet looked uncertain. "I'm not entirely certain this is the best course of action. After all, you have only just woken up, your senses aren't entirely prepared. The sun would blind you even with those glasses on."

"Oh, come on," Prussia complained. "You're not going back on your word now are you? We had a deal!"

"We had no such thing," Hamlet said calmly, adjusting his glasses snidely. "I said you might be able to use the van, but I never actually permitted to you take it."

"You f*cking–"

"I'm sorry. I really am, but I'm going to have to ask all of you to stay here for at least two weeks for observation." Italy gripped Germany's arm tighter and his eyes began to get wet. "It's only for a couple of weeks and then you are free to attempt to integrate yourselves back into the world. Unfortunately your old lives will no longer be available to you, but you are free to start new ones. England, you may have to go a little farther than the others."

"This is ridiculous," Germany said, standing up. Italy stood up with him solely for the purpose of keeping his hold on his friend.

Hamlet crossed his arms and looked at Germany like he would a child. "There is nothing else we can do. My medical staff can help patch up your arm a little more permanently and I have some very comfortable rooms for you to stay in. If you like we can even use one as a communal room and once we've determined that none of you are carrying a virus you can all socialize in there from time to time."

The others looked at him with anger and disbelief and they were all so preoccupied with his ludicrous plans that none of them noticed as his voice trailed off and his eyes turned to a hulking figure standing uneasily by the couch. "I think it would be best for all of us," said the figure with a frightening smile, "If you me and my friends go, da?"

_A/N_

_I like Hamlet. Both the play and this guy. But don't worry, my taking to his character does not mean he will constantly be here, he's not in the next chapter so shush._

_It seems that this fic is now on a schedule: every two weeks around the weekend BOOM update, and around chapter 6 the chapters will have names because that's when things get crazy. I hope you like it, please fav and review, it makes a difference, it really does. See you in two weeks, happy holidays._

_~CG_


	4. Chapter 4

The van was gritty and the cleaner patches shone the light back into their burning eyes, blinding them more than the actual sun. They squinted through their sunglasses at the world around them as Germany unlocked the driver's side door. He climbed in and pushed a button, unlocking the rest of the doors as well. Prussia climbed in beside him and the others clambered into the back. Russia had fallen unconscious again after his short interaction with the doctor and England, America and France shifted him into a seat in the back next to Japan. Canada sat on the other side and America pushed in next to him.

The van wasn't made for nine people, but with a bit of arguing and shoving they all managed to fit in. England and America had to trade places for the reason that England was smaller so he would fit better and that if he stayed next to France he would "smash the man's head in with Russia's pipe and force-feed him scones to keep him quiet." Everyone was fairly certain he didn't have any scones with him, but they decided to move him just in case.

"Now we need to get this sorted out," Germany said after he had pulled out of the parking lot and onto the empty road.

"I thought we already did," Prussia muttered.

"Not even close. For starters, does anyone have any ideas where we are?" The others were silent. "Come on, someone has to know! Can anyone feel anything at all?"

"I feel sexy, does that count?" asked France.

"I can't feel a thing beyond my physical body," England said, eyebrows knitted together. "I don't understand it, we should at least be able to feel which country we're in."

"I thought we were in America?" said Prussia.

"We might very well still be," Japan explained. "But we cannot know for sure unless one of us feels it and I have a feeling that no on can."

"Well, there's only one explanations," America said, holding up a finger as he looked around at the others. "I can't feel a thing and neither can anyone else so the only logical explanation is that we aren't in a country."

"Are you suggesting what I hope to God you aren't?" asked England.

"Aliens."

"And there it is."

"No, really," America insisted. He leaned forward on his elbows. "If we can't feel the country we're in then the only logical explanation is that we aren't in one. So either we're in the middle of the Pacific Ocean or we've been taken hostage by little green men."

"It just gets better and better."

"They've obviously taken our form so that we'll trust them and used a translator to speak in English."

"And put on an American accent?" asked Canada, rolling his eyes.

"What? That guy didn't have an accent."

England turned and banged his head lightly on the window. Italy, who had been oddly quiet since they left the office began to shake and a high-pitched whine emanated from him. Germany glanced back at him worriedly.

"America, shut up," he said. "You're scaring Italy."

"You know what?" America continued. "I bet this is Mars. That would explain why we're in the desert." He looked past France to where the window was, showing only a barren, dusty landscape. There wasn't a building in sight. The only thing that broke up the flat brown was a grove of dead trees a few miles away.

England stopped, his head leaning up against the window. "How would you explain the fact that we're breathing then if Mars has no atmosphere?"

"Maybe we're in a dome of some sort."

"We're in Nevada," Germany said.

"What?"

"Look," he said, pointing at a sign up ahead that read "Bellhaven, Nevada 7m."

"Oh."

"Seven miles huh?" Prussia asked. "Do you think we can make it all the way before America and England kill each other?" The two nations glared at him and he smiled. "What? I'm just saying."

"Can everyone just calm down? Italy, stop making that noise." Germany sighed as Italy's whine turned to silent weeping and then to hiccups.

"G-Germany?" he asked. "Are you sure we're not on Mars?"

"Positive."

Other than Italy's fading hiccups the van fell silent for a little while as they all watched the horizon for any buildings. Canada, squashed between an unconscious Russia and a brooding England, twiddled his thumbs quietly. Then he began to think. He thought about the odd fact that even though they were supposedly in the chambers for four years each of them was sporting a fresh haircut. He thought about how all of them seemed oddly clean and shaven. Canada knew that there were people hired in hospitals to keep coma patients clean and cut their hair, so maybe it was true. Maybe they were human.

But if they were then what would that mean for them? Families. Jobs and shopping. Everything would be different. In fact, if he had been taken off the street four years ago Canada must have been quite young. He wasn't sure how old he was in nation years, but he knew it was still in the teens. He would have parents.

No. Germany had to be right, they were still nations, just a little disoriented. Speaking of Germany… "Germany?" he called.

His response was a sigh and "What is it now America?"

"Canada," he corrected quietly. "Are you sure you should be driving with a broken hand?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay. Sorry." He sat back again, shifting Russia's arm out from under his back so he could lean comfortably on the backrest. He felt so tired ever since he woke up in that tube. Maybe a nap would be a good idea. Italy and America had already fallen asleep and Canada decided he would like to join them.

As he settled down to sleep Japan was thinking similarly. His old body wasn't meant to take this kind of stress and all of his joints were aching. But he kept his eyes open, watching for the city they were supposed to be reaching soon. Once they were in civilization he could rest again. As he was thinking it Prussia called out.

"Hey, look! I see something!"

It was true. On the horizon ahead of them was a clutter of things. The thing Prussia had spied was the water tower, marked in big letters "BELLHAVEN". It was a small town rather than the city they had been expecting. The buildings were all low to the ground and their paint was worn as dull as the sand around them.

"Do you think there's a hotel?" asked France. "I could use a shower and some beauty sleep." He laughed. "Not that I need it."

"I doubt a town this small would have a hotel," Germany replied. "A motel maybe, but I think we should just get some gas, a map and find a larger city."

"I think we're missing a major point here," England said as he glared out the window. "Does anyone here actually have any money? My wallet's emptier than the desert."

Germany glanced at Prussia. The ex-nation reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Nein," he sighed. "No money, just an expired drivers license."

"I don't have any either," Germany grumbled.

Japan and France checked their wallets too and came up with nothing. England woke up Canada gently and asked him to check as well. The northern nation blearily opened up his wallet and declared that he had a credit card and five cents worth of Canadian Tire money.

"We can use the credit card," Germany said.

England took it from Canada and looked at it. "Matthew Williams? That's your name?"

"Yes," Canada murmured, halfway back to sleep.

"Interesting," he muttered, storing the information away for later. "Well I hope it works. If we really have been gone for four years there's a good chance his bank account has been closed." Germany hummed his agreement.

"Can I see that?" asked Prussia, looking back at them. England passed it to France who passed it to Prussia. The Prussian man examined it. "Scotiabank," he said. "Never heard of it. And Matthew Williams? Hmm." He took a moment to mull it over in his mind. "Matthew, Matt, Mattie. I dunno," he said at last. "I think I still prefer Birdie."

"Well, what's your name then?" asked England.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," Prussia said, handing the credit card to his brother. England snickered. "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry," England said through his hand. "I just can't see you as a Gilbert."

"Why? I'm awesome. Gilbert is awesome. Ergo my being named Gilbert is freaking awesome."

"Would you two please be quiet?" asked Germany through gritted teeth.

They quieted down for a second and then Prussia turned around and asked, "Hey, Francey-pants, what's your name?"

France smirked. "Mon nom est Francois Bonnafoy," he said with as much flourish as was physically possible in the confined space.

"So your name is Francis?" asked England.

"Oui."

He snickered again earning a dirty look from his French rival. The van stopped and Germany sat back in his seat. He turned to look at them all fully. "I'm going to get the map and I need Canada to come with me for his credit card number. When I come back each of you will either be quiet or you will be dead. Understood?"

They all nodded their agreement. "Good. Somebody wake up Canada and send him in."

Germany opened the door and climbed out onto the pavement of the Gas n' Go and slammed the door shut with his good hand. The bang startled the others awake and they all looked around sleepily. Italy started calling for Germany and France and America had to switch places so that France could give some of his big brotherly comfort. Canada had to climb over a few people to get out, but eventually he made it and jogged past the lonely gas pumps to the store where Germany was searching through a rack of map books.

The silence in the van only lasted for a few seconds before they broke and started up a conversation.

"Alfred F. Jones? What does the F stand for?"

"I dunno. Franklin, Freedom? F*ck, I don't know."

"I sincerely hope that f*ck wasn't one of the options," muttered England.

"So does that mean there's a Jones family out there somewhere?" asked Japan.

"Maybe," America said with a shrug. "Who knows."

"Do you think there's a Beilschmidt family out there somewhere?" asked Prussia. "I'm too awesome to not have anyone waiting for me out there."

"Veh~ I hope there's a family out there for me!" Italy said happily.

"I hate to put a damper on your enthusiasm Italy-san, Prussia-san, but it is highly unlikely that any of us has someone out there."

"Well at least I'm not named after a car," Prussia grumbled.

"Do you still think we're nations?" asked England.

"I think that we should not take everything Hamlet-san said at face value. We should still hold on to the theory that he lied and that we and the others were kidnapped, which would put them all in grave danger, while still maintaining a firm grasp on the idea that we may in fact be human."

The others considered the nation's (or man's) explanation. "So are you saying that we can't know one way or the other?" asked America.

"I'm saying that both ideas have merit and we can't disregard either until we have substantial evidence."

"Japan has a point," England said thoughtfully. "And before we know which is true we have to be careful. I suggest that when we are in public we refer to each other only by our human names. Just in case."

"What good would that do us?" France asked obnoxiously.

"Well for one thing," England replied through gritted teeth, "It means that if we are actually still nations we don't really want the public knowing we exist. For another, if we really are human we don't exactly want to be put in the loony bin for thinking we _aren't_ human."

"I agree with England-san," Japan said, watching Germany maneuver the gas pump's hose through the window. Germany's hair wasn't greased back like it normally was. Since they had woken up it had been hanging over his forehead in a messy clump of sweat. "We need to appear normal until we can contact our bosses and know for certain."

"But that doctor man said if we told anyone what he was doing we would get in trouble," Italy said shakily.

"That is true," England put in.

"Maybe we should return to the meeting centre and search for proof," France put in. England opened his mouth to shoot him down, but closed it when he realized that it was actually a fairly reasonable suggestion.

The driver's door opened and Germany slouched into his seat. The door beside America opened and Canada appeared carrying three party-sized bags of chips. America whooped and took a bag before letting his brother pass. "I'm starving!" he announced as he pulled open the bag of all-dressed. The scent of junk food radiated from the opening immediately and he took a big breath of it. "Ah, smell that smell! It's just like heaven."

"I didn't know heaven smelled like clooged-up arteries," England said, more to himself than anyone else.

The van started up again with a sputtering hum and they were off again, down the empty streets at the astounding speed of 25 miles per hour. "Why so slow, West?"

"There is such thing as a speed limit, bruder, and since I don't have a driver's license it would be bad to break any laws right now."

They puttered along the road, throwing up dust behind them. The buildings in the town looked old and worn out. "I swear I just saw a tumble weed go by," England muttered.

"This town probably doesn't even have a police force," America said through a mouthful of food. He had already managed to inhale half of the bag of chips and France was finding it harder and harder to keep his jeans free of crumbs. "I bet you could go, like, 120 and no one would care."

"I'm just being safe," Germany argued.

"Couldn't you be safe in a more – I dunno – exciting way?"

"Just be quiet and let me drive."

"There's a question," France put in. "Where are we driving to?"

"According to this map we aren't too far from Carson city and that being a state capitol I would assume that America has some sort of government facility there." He gripped the wheel tightly with his good hand, his frustration showing through the tiny veins popping up beneath his skin.

"Well actually," America said, biting another chip in half. "There's no place in Arizona that deals with people like us. Kind of weird actually, most of my major cities do, but Arizona is like that. But there are a couple of options in San Francisco."

"San Francisco?"

"Yup." He reached in for another handful of chips. The bag rustled, sending a spasm of annoyance down Germany's spine.

"Right then. Let's go to San Francisco." He turned the steering wheel sharply and slammed down on the gas and the break, sending the van into a lopsided donut. Italy screamed along with the tires. Then the German slammed on the breaks sending all of his passengers flying into one another painfully before hitting the gas again. Off they went down the road at the haphazard speed of 100 miles per hour, through the deserts of Arizona and towards the state of California.

With the added time spent stopping off at gas stations for bathroom breaks and getting more snacks for everyone, by the time they entered San Francisco it was bordering on nine and the sky had gone dark. As they entered the city the stars disappeared, replaced by the light pollution and cloud cover of a dense group of people. Sky-scrapers towered over them and bright lights flashed telling them to buy this and order that or watch this program on TV.

But through all the noise and brightness the nations slept, worn out from all of their unexpected exercise. Germany and Japan were the only ones able to keep their eyes open as Japan had napped for a good part of the way and Germany was too awake to let himself sleep, so they took turns at the wheel. The others were passed out peacefully on each others' shoulders. Italy, who had been moved to the back to make room for Prussia, was even resting his head on Russia's shoulder, knowing perfectly well what could happen if the other should decide to wake up. But Russia hadn't been waking up often and when he did it was only for short periods of time. None of them were sure what the sedative the guards had given him was or even when it would wear off, but they were grateful for it.

Japan glanced over the map again, directing Germany through the bustling streets to the spot America had marked off as being a special government building. As they progressed towards it the streets they drove on become quieter and quieter, more and more out of the way until they weren't entirely sure if the alley they were on could be classified as a street at all.

Japan looked around for a street sign. "There," he said, pointing down a small street.

"Are you sure?" Germany's voice was uncertain and Japan could understand. As the pulled down the little road they passed between two dark and ratty apartment buildings. Past them the buildings continued on their left but became a fenced off lot on the other.

"This should be it."

The van rolled to a stop and Germany got out. The building that was supposed to be a meeting hall was in actuality an abandoned Coka-Cola factory. The windows were boarded up and the walls of the building were coated in a thick layer of grime that barely gave enough space to see the reddish brickwork underneath. The place hadn't been touched in years and it showed its age horribly.

A low grumble erupted in Germany's throat. He spun around and with a look of destructive fury he charged around the van, past Japan emerging from his seat, and to the door beside his. He whipped it open and reached in, grabbing a sleeping nation by his collar and yanking him out of the darkness of the van into the glow of the city lights. He threw America violently into the fence that separated them from the open space of the factory yard and yelled.

As soon as he was lifted, America's eyes opened and they widened in pain when his back hit the fence with a ringing clang. He stumbled to the side, trying desperately to regain his balance before the German could reach him for another blow.

"Whoa!" he cried, ducking an oncoming fist. The fist hit the fence with force sending another ringing tone across the yard. "What the hell, man?"

"You said it would be here!"

He swung his fist again, keeping his injured hand close to his body. Another shattering ring. The noise had woken the others and they filed out of the van, bewilderment written all over their faces doing nothing to hide the shock. Germany pulled back his fist for another swing and America ducked, but his arm was grabbed from behind by France and Japan. Italy ran out and tackled him around the waist, not to hold him back but out of confusion over the entire situation.

Germany struggled in their grip, shouting for them to let go. They refused, simply holding on more tightly. Prussia went around in front of his brother, raising his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

"Whoa there, West!" he called. "Calm the f*ck down for a second. What's wrong? What happened?"

"This idiot," Germany seethed. "Sent us to the wrong location!" He pulled against his restraints and Italy cried out. England jumped on Germany, grabbing him around the chest and helping to hold him back.

"What?" asked America. "The hell I did! You probably took a wrong turn somewhere! Where are we?" He spun around, looking for a sign.

"America, they're right."

"What?" he stopped.

"I said they're right," called Canada from the corner. "We're right where you said it would be and it's not here."

"What? That can't be right." He jogged over to stand by his brother and looked up at the sign. "Well… maybe there are multiple roads called Waratah avenue?" he muttered, scratching his shoulder absently.

"Only one in the state, let alone the city," Canada told him. America grabbed the mapbook from him and flipped its pages to the index. He ran his finger down the list as he wandered back over to the others, Canada following quietly behind.

"This doesn't make sense," he said. "It should be here." America closed the book and looked around again. His eyes settled on the factory and his face fell. "I could have sworn…"

"Maybe you made a mistake?"

"I can't have, I come here all the time, I know this place."

"Obviously not or we would have found a meeting hall and not a shrine to your unhealthy eating habits!" Germany screamed.

The lights came on in an apartment nearby and someone shouted for them to shut up. They could barely hear them over the roar of the busy street just a few buildings away.

"Germany, calm down," France soothed, still gripping Germany's arm firmly.

"How can I calm down when this damn idiot can't even remember where he left a building?" the German raged, straining against the hands that held him.

"Germany-san," Japan said, "Your need to sleep. You haven't slept all day while the rest of us have. You are just overtired."

"His face will be overtired when I'm through with it!"

"First off that didn't make any sense," Prussia said, voice shaking, hands still raised. "Second, I don't think fighting will make the building magically appear. Just keep calm and carry on."

Germany screamed, his neck bulging with muscles and veins. America stepped in front of him, a dangerous move for anybody. "Can we all just calm. The f*ck. Down!"

His opponent sighed and relented, letting his healthy hand release from its pale and now bleeding fist. Japan and France looked amazed and uncertain. With a great deal of hesitation they let their fingers relax and then took them off their charge altogether. England did the same and picked Italy up off the ground where he was hugging Germany's leg and whimpering softly.

The German turned his back on America, face down and eyes closed and his shoulders slouching forward. "I suppose," he said tiredly, "that we should move on then."

"Just what I've been saying," America said relieved. "And maybe in the morning when we're all better rested and we no what's what you can get started on an apology."

Once again he had gone too far. Germany raised his head, face growing red, neck and arms tensing and he lifted his fist and spun around to hit America. But his punch was slow and America saw it coming, ducking below the line of fire and leaving Prussia open to the pain he had dodged. The punch landed squarely in Prussia's chest, sending the albino flying back into the side of the apartment building behind them.

His lungs were emptied in a burst of heat and pain and he slid down into the garbage bags lining the wall. They collapsed under the weight of his limp body and his eyes, half-lidded and crossing out of focus, slid shut as a drop of bloodied saliva fell from the corner of his open mouth.

"Oh God," England whispered.

France rushed over to his friend, shaking his shoulder and calling for him to wake up. The others stayed where they were, uncertain of what to do and feeling unable to do anything. France put two fingers under Prussia's jaw and held his breath, his heart pounding so hard he was worried it would leap out of his chest.

After several seconds he looked up at them. "Call an ambulance," he said. "Call an ambulance! His heart has stopped!"

_A/N_

_Thank you for your reviews, favs and alerts! They really do help so keep it up and I'll keep this up. See you in two weeks_

_~CG_


	5. Chapter 5

A voice rang out calling for some doctor or other. A woman walked by, crying into a handkerchief as a man rubbed her back and told her it was all going to be okay. The smell of disinfectant and medication was so strong that Japan's nose felt like it was burning up on the inside. His eyes were heavy and as he glanced around at the others he wondered if they felt the same weariness. Germany and Italy – or rather Ludwig and Feliciano – had disappeared to get some coffee for all of them with Canada's – no, Matthew's – credit card.

He just couldn't get used to the idea of calling them all by their human names. They had agreed to do so to keep the attention off of them but it was still strange to call someone he had known for decades by a different name.

Using human names didn't seem to get rid of any attention either. Every time any of them turned around they would see a pair of teenage girls watching them and whispering excitedly to one another. As they walked by people would slow and look at them with an air of bewildered amazement. They all seemed to be staring at Arthur – formerly known as England – who was doing his best to ignore the gazes, but finding it rather difficult.

A voice called "Beilschmidt?" and all six of them looked up. The doctor who had called the name was looking around the waiting room with the battered weariness of someone who was well versed in dealing with bad news cases. She called the name again, uncertain that she was pronouncing it right.

The others weren't certain about it either, as all they had to go by was his name printed on a driver's license, but it sounded right. They all stood up except for Ivan (Russia) and looked at the doctor expectantly. She seemed taken aback at the large group of tired looking men and after regaining her composure she flashed a pained smile at them.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Mr. Beilschmidt's physician, Dr. Swain. Are you all… family?" She looked incredibly uncertain and her demeanor brought discomfort to the others as well.

"Actually, none of us are related. We're colleagues," Arthur explained as well as he could. "Please, is there any news on our friend?"

"Gilbert is improving thanks to your friend over there," Swain said, nodding to Francis who beamed at the praise. "He's suffering from some oxygen deprivation, but he should completely recover in a few days so long as he rests well. However, we'd like to keep him here for observation for a week or two, just to be safe."

"Do you know what caused the heart failure?" asked Matthew, chewing his nail nervously. All of them had seen the hit Gilbert had sustained at Ludwig's hands, but they were hoping for another explanation. A nation's heart didn't give out so easily, even an ex-nation.

Swain looked at the clipboard she had been holding to her chest and told them, "We haven't actually got much to go on, but from his readings and massive bruising of his ribs we would guess that Mr. Beilschmidt has some sort of heart condition that was exacerbated by a blow to the chest. Does he have any history of heart failure that you know of?" she asked, looking back up at them with her stony brown eyes.

Alfred leaned forward and whispered to Arthur, "What does exacerbate mean?"

"We've never heard about any problems before now," Arthur said, ignoring the American. "Is it possible this is something new?"

The doctor hummed. "It's unlikely. Things like this are usually hereditary. His hospital record doesn't show any history of heart disease in him or his family, but it is quite possible that it was underlying. His heart is very weak though, it's unlikely this is new."

"But he will be okay?"

"We can't be certain at this point, but I think he'll be fine." She smiled in what was supposed to be a reassuring way, but none of them felt reassured whatsoever. "He is awake," she continued. "He should be okay for visitors, but due to his condition we think it would be best if he only saw one person at a time. We don't want too much excitement."

"I think I should be the first to see him," Francis stated. "After all, I was the one to save his life." He grinned and looked at the others with superiority.

"Actually," Swain cut in. "Mr. Beilschmidt was asking for someone in particular. I wasn't able to get a name, he was still fairly groggy, but he said something about 'the blond one'."

Kiku sat down dejectedly.

Swain looked around at them. "Sorry. He also said something about a brother, but our files show that he's an only child."

"Oh, brother," Alfred said loudly in Arthur's ear. "Okay, he wants to see Luddy."

"Who?"

"Ludwig," Francis explained. "He and Gilbert are like brothers. Although I'm surprised he didn't want to see my lovely face first."

Dr. Swain gave another pained smile and said, "I'm sure."

"What's going on?" came a deep voice from across the room. Ludwig had returned carrying eight coffees in one hand and a paper bag containing some kind of food in the other. The hand was bruised and swollen beneath the bandages, but he refused to show any sort of weakness. Feliciano was hanging off his arm and looking terrified. "Is there news?" he asked, striding across the floor to the group. "How is mein bruder? Is he okay?"

"Your – Mr. Beilschmidt is fine Mr. Ludwig," Swain reassured him. "He would actually like to see you."

"He's awake?" Ludwig asked, a tinge of hidden excitement in his voice. "Bring me to him."

He thrust the cups and bag into Alfred's hands and followed after the retreating doctor. Alfred stumbled backwards, trying to gain a proper grip on the items. Once he did he carefully set the cups on a nearby table and reached into the paper bag. His face lit up and he pulled out an apple danish. "Score!" he cried, holding up the pastry for all to see. "The hero gets dibs, everyone else can suck it!"

"Will you be quiet? We have something serious to discuss," Arthur scolded.

"I thought this was pretty serious," Alfred mumbled into his snack.

"I wonder, is there anywhere we could go that would be more secluded than this waiting room? I don't think it would be wise for any of these people to hear of our predicament." Arthur rubbed his wrists lightly and shifted from foot to foot.

"We could always speak in the bathroom," Francis suggested.

"Too public," Ivan muttered from his seat.

"I don't want to be in any kind of bathroom with you Frog."

"As we entered we passed an empty room down the hall. I believe it was closed for repairs," Kiku (Japan) pointed out. He looked between the others and after a quick agreement the seven of them departed for the empty room.

When they arrived it was just like Japan had said: all of the beds had been moved to one side and there was a ladder sitting beneath an open section of ceiling. Wires hung from it at a dangerous length and they ducked to avoid it as they entered. Russia, who had been leaning against Canada and France, was set down on a chair that had been left out. He still seemed weak for some reason. England thought it might be a bad reaction to the sedatives he had been given and figured there was nothing they could do but wait for the drugs to get out of his bloodstream.

The others filed in and shut the door behind them. "Japan, could you keep an eye out for staff?" England asked. "I don't think they'd appreciate us using their room." The Asian nation nodded and carefully peered out of the tiny window in the door.

"What happened to using human names?" asked France, leaning against a ladder.

England rolled his eyes. "Well, we're not exactly in public anymore, Frog, so I think we can assume we're safe enough to use our country names again." He looked around at all of them, peering at their faces through his shaggy blond hair. His had been relatively unkempt compared to the others when they had awoken and it was a bit too long while the rest of them looked as though their hair had just been cut. Germany was the only other one whose hair was different from usual and only for the fact that it was not slicked back. He hadn't been fussing though so they could only assume it didn't bother him. England however was entirely bothered and he uncrossed his arms to brush a painful strand of hair out of his eye.

"I think we all know what Prussia's heart failure implies," he started.

"I don't," Italy interrupted.

"It means our national status is in question," Canada said quietly.

"Huh?" Italy looked at the young nation with a face of confusion and innocence.

France sighed and put an arm around the Italian. "A nation's heart is his capitol, oui?" Italy nodded enthusiastically. "A nation's heart only gets hurt when the capitol gets hurt, oui?" Another nod. "Prusse and Allemagne have the same capitol. So if something happens to one of their hearts it must also happen to the other, oui?" Italy nodded a little more slowly, his eyes wandering as he tried to sort it out in his muddled head. "So, if something happens to Prusse's heart, but not Allemagne's then…" Not sure how to finish his explanation he trailed off and frowned.

"Then there is no connection," Japan supplied.

France snapped his fingers and pointed at Japan as though to say, "that's it!" He swung his hand wide and said, eyes large, "If there is no connection between them then perhaps there is no connection to their country!"

"Do you think those guys know about this? I mean should we wait for them to talk about it?" America asked, sitting down on a nearby bed.

"Germany-san expressed concerns about this while driving here," Japan said, glancing through the window again. "He was worried that he could not feel Prussia-san's pain and wondered if he could be ill."

"Prussia might be sick?" asked Italy, his eyes growing larger.

"According to the doctors he might be," England muttered, rubbing his arms. "But nations don't get sick unless there is something wrong with their country and again if Prussia felt it so would Germany."

"Do you think we really could be human?" asked Canada.

France scoffed. "Don't worry. No one as wonderful as I am could possibly be something so common. We are nations. I have no doubts." He smiled as though this proved everything, but the others looked at him doubtfully.

"I think we should leave that question open," England said. "With everything that's happened today I'm not certain of anything anymore."

"Whoa, are you saying we could actually be non-nation human people?" cried America. "Dude, that is messed up! If we're humans then where the hell did we come from? Do we have families? A job? Could I be a racecar driver? That would be b*tchin'! I bet I'm a five time gold medalist and have been banned from every track on the planet for being too amazing at what I do. Do you think they named an award after me? I bet only the best of the best win that award and even then they're not as great as me."

"Would you shut up?" England demanded.

America closed his mouth with a click and glared at the older man.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Canada interrupted. "But did anyone else notice that Dr. Swain said Prussia had a record?"

"So?" asked America.

"In order to have a medical record, one must go to a hospital," England explained impatiently. "A nation's records are wiped every five years to keep people from getting suspicious of why Alfred Jones or Gilbert Beilschmidt has been renewing their driver's license for the past fifty years and never gets any older than twenty-five. It's meant to keep us safe, but it also means that in order to have any sort of record a nation needs to have done something or bought something within that five year gap."

"So what? So he's been to the hospital since the last wipe, it doesn't mean anything."

"It may not mean anything," England continued, beginning to pace. "But something tells me that it does. Nothing has felt right since we woke up, have you noticed? We just don't have the same presence anymore, or even the same knowledge of what's happening. I don't know about any of you, but since we left I haven't had the slightest clue of what's been going on back home."

"Pardon my interruption," Japan cut in. "But I think we should be heading back now. Germany-san has returned to the waiting area and I believe he should be present when we discuss this."

There was a moment of silence before England begrudgingly agreed. He and Japan helped up Russia as France led Italy out of the room. The noise swelled as they opened the door. America moved to follow them, but stopped when he felt a hesitant hand touch his shoulder. He turned to look questioningly at Canada who asked softly for him to stay behind for a moment. The door closed again, shutting off the noise of England and France's growing quarrel and the two of them were left in quiet.

America sat down again. "What's on your mind Canada?" he asked.

Canada rubbed his hands together worriedly and said, "I'm just a little concerned about our situation."

America's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's all? Jesus," he laughed, "and here you had me thinking this was gonna be some deep drama sh*t."

"But you don't understand," Canada insisted. "The others won't have our problem because they're older, but we're young. If we really are human we can't be more than, what, seventeen? Eighteen? If we've been missing for four years then there will be people looking for us. What are we supposed to do when they find us?"

Now America was growing confused. His brother's question made some sense, but he couldn't understand why it was such a big deal. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if they find us we'll be taken back to our own countries. We'll have people who will want to keep us safe and we may not be able to get into contact with the others. Not even with each other." Canada looked over at the door and tugged on the bottom of his grey t-shirt. "I just don't think it's such a good idea for any of us to get separated."

America scratched his head thoughtfully. "I think you're overreacting a little bit, dude. I mean, we're all adults, right? We can take care of ourselves!" He stood up and put a hand on Canada's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. "It's not like this is the end of the world or something."

The younger looked at the hand, sticky from the apple Danish, face a mixture of disgust and uncertainty. "I know," he said, sadly enough to make America genuinely concerned. Canada was never hopeless; he was always able to find something good about any situation, a virtue that came from being ignored by everyone on the planet. But now he seemed unsure of where that good might be. "But…" He paused. "if we're human, then…" He struggled with the words, trying to find just the right ones. "If we're human then we aren't brothers. I don't want to lose that."

There was a moment where America felt the urge to protect his little brother the way he did when they were kids. He had to make his bro feel happy and keep him from the sad things in the world. Sure when they were kids he forgot to protect sometimes, but this was a time he wasn't going to forget. Being the manly hero that he was he couldn't bring himself to hug Canada, even if they were alone so instead he patted him on the back, ruffled his hair and said, "Like I'm gonna let us get separated."

"You sure, big brother?" Canada asked, holding back a smile.

"Positive, little brother. Now c'mon. Let's get back to the others."

He slung an arm around his little bro's shoulders and led him out of the room. As they came to the waiting area a strange sight met their eyes. All of the people who had been sitting peacefully in their chairs were now standing and craning their necks to see past the group of nations who were now huddled over a figure lying on the ground. A team of nurses and orderlies rolled in a stretcher as quickly as they could past the two befuddled brothers.

When the bed arrived the nations dispersed to let them pass, setting themselves up to watch from a few feet away. It took three male nurses to lift Ivan off the floor and onto the waiting stretcher. Alfred pulled his arm away from Matthew and rushed over to their friends. They watched intently as their "companion" was whisked away by a noisy hoard of staff.

When the rush finally died down Alfred asked them what had happened. Apparently Ivan hadn't lasted long after exiting the room. When they reached the waiting room where Germany was looking for them his legs had given out and he lost consciousness. According to Kiku he must have been trying very hard to stay upright because as soon as his eyes closed his weighed doubled and they were forced to let go. Ivan fell to the floor, shocking an already upset Ludwig and sending everyone present into a frenzy.

Ludwig was sitting in a chair by the wall. Just a little ways off the girls who had been watching them earlier were staring with renewed fascination. Arthur muttered, "What next" and told them all that if anyone else felt like collapsing they would have to deal with his boot up their arse. Francis took it as dirtily as humanly possible, which launched the two into another argument. While they were off doing their thing with Alfred laughing on the sidelines and Matthew calling desperately for them to calm down, it was a very public place after all, the others relaxed a little.

Kiku set himself down beside Feliciano who was still grasping Ludwig's shirtsleeve, preventing his other friend from getting any closer. "Did he say anything?"

Ludwig looked up, surprised. "Hmm? What?"

"Did Gilbert-san say anything?" Kiku tried again.

"Oh," Ludwig said, his hazy eyes looking to the floor again. "Just asking where he was and telling me to punch Francis for performing CPR. Or as he called it, 'taking advantage of him while he was dying.'" He sighed and rubbed his throbbing hand. "I wish he would take this more seriously."

"It must be difficult for him," Kiku said, looking over at the girls who were now busying themselves filming Francis and Arthur's fight. "I certainly find it hard to accept all that has happened, but to experience it personally must be far more challenging a task. It's not surprising he would be pushing it out of his mind." He turned his dark eyes over to Feliciano who had fallen asleep again.

Ludwig looked at him as well. "I don't understand how he manages to sleep so easily during all of this," he muttered softly. There was a tone of compassion in his voice that was only ever present when he was speaking about his friend. Kiku noticed that his eyes always softened as well as though the very sight of Feliciano's innocence could calm him.

"All of the excitement has worn him out. I think sleep at this point is a good idea." He looked up pointedly at Ludwig. "You must be tired, Ludwig-san."

"Nein. How could I sleep when two of our group are in the hospital and we have no idea what is going on? I am not tired. I don't think I could be." But it was obvious in his face that his mind longed for a rest. Kiku knew how hard Ludwig tried to keep everything together and to keep situations under control. He had always been a hard worker and as a workaholic himself Kiku knew what Ludwig was feeling. But he also knew when it was time to stop.

"You need sleep," he said.

"I couldn't," was the reply. He had his head in his hand now and his eyes were closed.

"You must."

"I don't think I should." His shoulders were slumping.

"I will look after them. Sleep now."

"Okay."

…

Dreams are an odd thing.

The power of a dream can be anywhere from all encompassing to the most minute obscurity, revealing of your subconscious a string of truth or a mess of random facts and ideas. These things differ between people and their beliefs, and the combinations can lead to interesting outcomes.

One thing about dreams that many people argue is the ability to be aware of the fact that you are dreaming. Many people will never realize that they are asleep until they wake up and nothing will seem out of the ordinary until they do. Some will realize that they are dreaming at some point and either wake up or continue in their fantasy. Others will wake up as soon as something seems out of the ordinary. Most of the time a person will wake up and have no idea that for a few short minutes they were living out their secret hopes and plans in their mind, thinking that all there was in sleep was a hole in time.

When a combination of all of these factors add up a person, upon waking, may think something like "It's a sign!" or even "What the hell was that?" Right now, Ludwig was feeling the latter.

Still dazed from his nap he opened his eyes. It was well into the afternoon shift and the waiting room was full of waiting people. Feliciano was still asleep on his shoulder and Kiku was unconscious next to him, head lolling over and onto his chest. Across from them, Arthur and Francis were asleep in their seats as well. Arthur had his arms crossed again and his mouth was twitching very slightly. Francis was barely in his chair; upper body sprawled out across the magazine table in front of him. No one bothered to move him, simply pulling a magazine out gently from underneath him whenever one was required.

Ludwig gazed around at the other people in the room, none of whom he recognized. Now that it was no longer the night shift the nurses and doctors flowed through in a steady stream, clipboards at the ready and stethoscopes icy cold around their necks. The secretaries at the desk had changed and a new voice was over the intercom. A man sitting not far from Ludwig had his phone at the ready and was trying desperately to get a clear shot of Arthur.

All of this obsession over Arthur sort of pissed Ludwig off. Not only was the man drawing attention to them, but he was also completely unaware of it. The teenagers from the night before were gone at least, but a new and larger crowd had taken their place.

But his anger at Arthur, his confusion at the time loss and his desperate attempts to clear his bleary eyes were all overshadowed by the remnants of the dream he had experienced. It had been confusing and seemed to last a lifetime, but now that it was over he could remember a sort of narrowness to it that only dreams had. Within the dream it had seemed so real, but now that he was out of it the whole thing was so obviously just an idea that had been left to fester for too long.

He tried to cast it out of his mind and turn his focus to more important matters. Was Gilbert okay? Was Ivan alright? Where were Matthew and Alfred? And what the hell was going on with his hair? Okay, so that last item of thought wasn't quite so important, but now that he had slept and was in a single place it bothered him. Gel was needed fast or somebody was going to be in for a world of hurt.

Then, through the swell of hospital sounds came the noise of a single person bickering. The other side of the conversation could not be heard, but as the voice came closer it was obvious that there was definitely another person taking part. The audible voice was unmistakably Alfred's so Ludwig could only assume that the other was either Matthew or a girl he had picked up causing him to forget his brother and leave him behind in some bathroom.

Alfred and Matthew pushed their way though the crowd answering two of the German's questions. Each of the two carried a bag with the McDonald's logo on it and the stench of grease and vinegar emanating from them. As they drew closer Matthew's voice appeared as well, filling in the other half of the argument, but still not satisfying the query of what they were fighting about. All of their jabs and points were fairly vague and it gave Ludwig the uneasy feeling that it was something about their status.

He stood up, blocking their passage and resulting in a squeal from Feliciano as his headrest was taken away and he fell onto the seat beside him, waking him up effectively. Alfred saw the taller man and stopped, but Matthew had the misfortune of looking at his brother at the time and ended up walking straight into him. He stumbled back, stunned and spouting apologies left and right. When he managed to regain his balance and silence himself he stood at attention, eyes tracing the tiles on the floor. Alfred straightened up, preparing himself for a challenge, but was disappointed when all Ludwig did was look around at the humans and asked quietly, "Is there something I should know?"

"Al's just being an idiot again," Matthew said, glaring at his sneakers.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. The children were just being children, that's all it was. He wouldn't mind it so much if he didn't have to mediate. "What happened," he sighed out.

"He thought it would be a good idea to look himself up on someone's laptop when they were busy," Matthew replied.

"What?" Alfred said, offended. "I asked didn't I?"

"And they told you to go f*ck yourself."

"Exactly. I think if you're going to be that rude you have to expect people to ignore you."

"He threatened to call the police! He thought you were trying to steal it!" Matthew cried.

"Both of you!" Ludwig called. They were getting loud and the subject, while important to their cause, was completely unworthy of the drama they were putting him through. He rubbed his right temple, which was beginning to throb. "Calm down. Did you find anything out?"

"No."

"Then this discussion doesn't need to happen."

He sat down again and leaned his head back with a sigh. Feliciano immediately latched onto his arm and pulled him as close as was possible with the armrest between them. His eyes closed and he settled down to sleep again. Ludwig, however, could not. Aside from it being mid-noon the reason he couldn't sleep was worry. Matthew and Alfred buying lunch, which they were now handing out, only reminded him that Matthew's credit card couldn't last forever and they needed a place to sleep. Not to mention the problem of bills. Once Gilbert and Ivan were out of hospital the amount they owed the hospital would be astronomical.

He couldn't understand why he was the only one troubled by such thoughts. Surely the others had thought about this as well? Ludwig was certain that Matthew had thought of this at least, after all it was his money they were spending. That was another thing. He felt admittedly bad about Matthew footing the bill every single time. None of the rest of them had any money on them, but they had bank accounts right? They should be able to help out.

When his turn came Ludwig took his burger, looking carefully at Matthew's face for signs of worry. He couldn't find any. Matthew seemed to take his expression as one of anguish and apologized for the burger saying that McDonalds was the only place Alfred was willing to go. Ludwig assured him that it was fine and as his young comrade walked on to Kiku he unwrapped the stinking patty. It really did look unappetizing. Just the smell of it's grease-laden processed cheese made him loose the hunger he had built up overnight. With a sigh he wrapped it up again and set it on the magazine table. Honestly he should have been starving and he was, but there was no way in hell he was eating that cr*p.

Feli shifted, nuzzling Ludwig's arm warmly. He wondered if the Italian was dreaming. He wondered if it was the same dream that he had. He wondered if they really were human. He fell asleep.

_A/N_

_A little late due to some massive summatives, but not too bad I think. Be warned though, the next chapter will probably be even later because of exams (let's hear it for semestered schooling) but I'll try not to be too late._

_Read, review, re… something._

_~CG_


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